


End Credits

by windandthestars



Series: Life Long Love Letter (A Series of Post S2 Newsroom Fics) [2]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've reached the end of the film as far as she can tell, and maybe that means they'll have their happy ending and maybe it means they're falling into the dark abyss before the end credits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End Credits

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-season 2. Follows [Breakfast and Papers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/976967) but can be read as a stand alone.

It's two days before they have the wherewithal to end up in the same place after the broadcast. Despite the fact that Charlie and Will have done their best to shield her from the worst of it, it's been two days of legal bullshit, bad weather, and broadcasts filled with narrowly avoided mishaps. While she's glad she's here, she's exhausted and shaken and she wants her own bed not Will's sterile and hauntingly empty apartment.

She's taking in the view, palms pressed against the glass. There's no one out there to see the way she's still fraying around the edges, but it feels good to let her guard down and pretend that they can, knowing she won't be any worse off in the morning.

"You're a shadow. You're back lit." Will explains, pressing his palms into the backs of her hands. "I'm the only one who can see you." He's teasing, but there's a truth to his words that makes her shiver. There's always been that part of her that only he can see and that terrifies her.

"You were good tonight."

He makes a noncommittal noise, not moving when she shifts, trying to move away. "You were amazing."

She scoffs at this and he pulls back. He hasn't moved, he's still there but she can angle herself away from the light, away from his scrutiny. "It was a good show."

She feels his fingers on her jaw- firm but not bruising, never bruising, that was for words- and she presses her eyes shut trying to steel herself for whatever conversation he feels they need to have tonight.

"I'm terrified, Mac." He says it softly, gently, tipping her face toward his. "I feel like we're both standing here, leaning against the glass and I’m praying we don’t go tumbling through it.

"Did Dr. Habib give you that one?" She's not intending to sound cruel, or dismissive, but Will's not the kind of guy to make these sorts of admissions without a bit of prompting and she hadn't asked for this.

"It's a fucking nightmare." He continues, ignoring her comment, still trying to coax her into looking at him. "But I'm not scared for me. I'm not scared, for me."

It's me, she thinks but the thought ends there because she's terrified too and she doesn't know how to tell him to stop without running the risk of pushing him into closing himself off.

"Will."

"I don't want to rush into this Mac. Half the time I don't know what the fuck is going on but I know the ground is somewhere down there and I don't plan on seeing it any time soon."

"I don't know what that means." She's shaking her head, laughing a little, because she's pretty sure he means he knows neither of them know what the fuck they're doing, and not that he's afraid of the sun coming up, but maybe he is because six years is a long time to live in the dark.

"I love you. It means I love you."

"I love you too." She fumbles a bit for the words, stumbling past the sudden swell of emotion.

He wraps his arms around her waist. "I shredded the receipt for the ring a year and a half ago, the day I bought it, because I already knew I'd never stopped loving you." She stiffens and leans her forehead against the glass. She'll let him speak his piece because there's no use stopping him, but there's still a part of her screaming to tell him to stop. "I bought it because I thought you had. I thought you’d stopped. I thought you didn't know. I wanted you to know I'd been serious. I wanted you to know how much you hurt me. I never wanted to hurt you, but I couldn't bear the thought of you not knowing how much I loved you, how much I love you."

"I don't want your apology." She's treading dangerously close to getting angry, dangerously close to raising the volume on the first civil conversation they've had about this.

"I know. That would never be enough. I'm not going to pretend that it would be. I want you to know how much I love you, no matter what, no matter what you do, or what you decide. I love you and I'm sorry if that scares the shit out of both of us, but Jack seems to think that's funny so it can't be that bad, can it?"

She's not sure that basing their lives on how amusing Will's psychologist finds them is a good idea, but she has to admit it's not an unfamiliar sentiment. They've had this part of the conversation before, back before she had made her confession and ran away trailing rose petals and betrayal. If Will watched chick flicks instead of musicals she'd suggest turning in her running shoes, or at least her passport. They've reached the end of the film as far as she can tell, and maybe that means they'll have their happy ending and maybe it means they're falling into the dark abyss before the end credits. Either way, she can’t say she cares that much right now.

“I’m tired, Will.” She whispers out past the windows into the empty air and she feels his grip on her tighten, holding her close, keeping her here.

“Tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” It’s not the bargain she wants to make, but she’ll take it. If it means he’ll stop talking and hold her, if it means they can curl up in bed and get the first decent night sleep either of them have had in six years, she’ll take it. “Tomorrow.”


End file.
